The Wrong Tribute
by it-was-enchanting
Summary: For SneverusSnapers OneShot Challenge! Prompt #2 The Wrong Tribute.    'Maysilee Donner would not be going into the Hunger Games. I would.'
1. Shadow

**#2-The Wrong Tribute**

**I wasn't very happy with how this turned out, so I am going to do it again but from Maysilee's POV as well, it will be posted as the second chapter, so put this story on alerts if you are interested in seeing that soon!**

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><p>"<em>Maysilee Donner!" <em>

No. No. Not Maysilee! I close my eyes, clutching my sisters' hand tightly as the escort reads her name.

No.

I look at my sister, my twin, my other half, my mirror image, and I think of when we were little, when she would cry at the slightest scrape of the knee, how she would sleep on the floor of our parents' room when there was a thunderstorm, how she stuck to my side like glue at school, always worried about being left alone.

Now, my Maysilee was going to the Hunger Games, where scrapes of knees were the least of a persons worries and thunderstorms were an all to common appearance, and I knew, thats when I knew, that Maysilee Donner would not be going into the Hunger Games.

I would.

"_Mirabelle!"_ Maysilee cried at the goodbyes that we had in the Justice Building, but I had to be strong now, for her, even if it was me who would be going to my death. I was always the one to be strong for her. Even now.

I held her so close the pulled her away, holding her at arms length, and analysed her, from her honey-blond hair to her midnight blue eyes, from the freckle she has next to her right eye to the scar on her left cheek gained from a particularly violent game of tag. My mirror image, my best friend, my other half. I knew that I was doing the right thing, Maysilee Donner would not make it past the bloodbath, but Mirabelle Donner would. Mirabelle Donner would make it far.

"_I can do this, Maysi!" _I had tried to reassure her, but I knew with every tear that slid down her cheeks that she didn't believe me. And with every tear that fell down her heart-shaped face, I had lost faith in myself as well.

Then, as the face of my mirror image became cloudy with tears, I felt her fade away, lose faith in my chance to survive, my life, my future. Me.

And with that, I began to fade, too.

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><p>Haymitch Abernathy knew the truth. I wasn't Maysilee. Maysilee Donner was a girl who couldn't hurt a fly, who burst into tears at the sight of a dead bird, who was so dependant on her sister that she could have been her shadow.<p>

So, when on the night we travelled to the Capitol, when I yanked the tablecloth from the buffet-style table, sending food flying. Later that night, when we said our farewells for the evening, he hugged my, then whispered in my ear, _"Goodnight, Mirabelle."_

Then we became allies, Haymitch Abernathy and 'Maysilee Donner', because everybody needs someone to hold their secrets, right?

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><p>When Maysilee lost faith in me in the Justice Building, I knew that I was going to loose these Games, my life, my family, my sister. So I set myself the task of making sure Haymitch Abernathy, who knew that, really, Maysilee Donner was safe, that in fact Mirabelle Donner was the one here.<p>

My reason? Because he knew that I was the wrong tribute, and yet he didn't care. He didn't care that I was a fake, a imposter, a pretender. He saw Mirabelle Donner differently, becaue at this time I was so sick of being Maysilee, and he was the one who kept me as Mirabelle, Mira, the town girl who, really, wasn't supposed to be here, shouldn't be here, the girl who took the place of a sister who doesn't believe in her enough to win.

So by association, it was Maysilee's fault I died, but her doing that made Haymitch Abernathy the victor of the 50th Hunger Games; Maysilee Donner, who was too weak, too scared, too distraught at the idea of entering the Games that she let her sister go instead, with the full knowledge that she would not be coming home.

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><p>Maysilee Donner, who let a girl who she followed around do much that she earned herself the nickname of 'shadow', the girl who's twin sister became one of 49 casualties of the second Quarter Quell. The girl who let her sister die.<p>

My name is Mirabelle Donner. I was entered into the 50th Hunger Games when my sister was too afraid to stop me from taking her place. I was the wrong tribute.

**Review and tell me what I can do next time to make this better, I'm not happy with how it turned out at all :/ **


	2. Pathetic

**My attempt at Maysilee's POV from the first chapter.**

_'Maysilee Donner.'_

Me. That was me. I felt Mirabelle squeeze my hand and I heard Lana sob.

Me.

I wondered how people felt when they were reaped. But of course, hardly anyone ever came back here to ask.

Now, I can ask myself the question and find the answer: scared.

Scared. How _pathetic_ was I? I hadn't even made it to the stage yet, and already I was shaking, feeling the tears build up in my eyes, and inside was this all-consuming fear that seemed to just take over my body, freezing my blood, widening my eyes, rooting me to the spot.

And I felt the grip on my hand loosen. And I watched as my sister walked to the stage.

To her death.

I knew she couldn't win. There were 48 tributes this year. Forty Eight. Four-eight. That makes at least 12 Careers. How was a merchant girl from District 12 even supposed to have a chance?

I knew that those goodbyes would be our last. And yet I didn't have the guts to go out and say it was me. Who would know if Mirabelle left the room and I stayed? We had the same outfit, it would be an easy switch.

But I couldn't do it.

I couldn't just...write of my life like that. Even if it meant that I signed Mira's death sentence.

I couldn't even tell her that she would win.

Pathetic.

I watched. Of course, we have to by law. But I watched for her. And I know that the people who knew me and Mira knew that in fact, Maysilee Donner was here, safe, while Mira was there, the ally of Haymitch Abernathy.

Lana wouldn't speak to me. Of course, she knew it was me that was left here. She shut me out, called me despicable, yelled curses at me, and used that word. The word that described me so well.

Pathetic.

When Lana said it, it became real. I was despicable. I let my sister _die_ because I wanted to live. Who _does_ that?

When Mirabelle died, a part of me did, too. I became numb, void of emotion. All I could hear in my head was Lana's voice echoing that one word.

_Pathetic._

My parents knew. They knew which daughter had stayed, which daughter they'd lost.

And I don't think they could stand it.

So they did the easy thing; arranged me a marriage.

And I married. And I had my little girl.

And I had my headaches.

Guilt. That's what they say. Lana, who married a coal miner, who fell in love, who lost him.

I know that's what she says. When I first went to her apothecary for help, she laughed me away. This was a problem only I could fix, she said.

But to fix it, I'd need a time machine.

My name is Maysilee Donner. I never died in the 50th Hunger Games. My name is in the history books as a casualty of the second quarter quell.

Now, I am an imposter. I go by the name of Mirabelle Donner. The girl that took my place. The girl I let die for me.

The girl who's death sentence I signed.


End file.
